


Starkest White

by orphan_account



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Billie gets an A for Effort for trying to mother the Outsider, But in true Outsider fashion he doesn't much care, F/M, Human Outsider (Dishonored), Royal Protector Thomas (Dishonored), Royal Spymaster Billie Lurk (Dishonored), Royal Spymaster The Outsider (Dishonored), spoilers for death of the outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-09 10:37:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12274668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "I always told my Marked that I didn't have favorites... That was the only lie I ever told.""I find that hard to believe," Billie said."But itistrue," he stated. "Though, for most of my tenure, it wasn't a lie.""Oh?""It wasn't a lie until I Marked Daud," he said.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Serious, there are spoilers for Death of the Outsider here.  
> Like serious spoilers.  
> I'm legitimately not joking here.

Billie Lurk, in her life, had learned that rarely is anything starkest of white or darkest of black.

A statement, which, as he ran the sander across the plane of wood, the young man across the shop from her made.  She put down the ornament she'd been carving for the bottom left joint and folded her arms over her chest.

"What's that mean?" she asked.

"It means, when you and Daud sprang me from the Void, Billie Lurk, it was a complete severing, but not _clean_ ," he clarified.  _Not the starkest of white or darkest of black—not perfect one way or another_.

"How do you mean that?" she pressed.

"I..." he hesitated, lifting a hand to wipe sweat off his brow.  He went to the craft of carpenter with gusto, enjoying the feel of wood under his hands, of creating things.  He was very good, if Billie's opinion was anything to lean on, and he'd build near anything— but coffins and boats were his specialty. "Hear whispers just before a thing happens...  Sometimes I have peculiar dreams..."

"Is that the Void trying to reach out to you?"

"Perhaps," he shrugged and continued his work.

"Your timing sucks," Billie sighed.  She kept promising to come back and visit him if he made her something—but she hadn't left yet, and he hadn't made what she'd asked for yet, mainly because she hadn't quite summoned the words to say what she wanted (or the courage to leave).  He didn't glance up, but she saw a dark brow twitch upwards.

"Oh?"

"Now I can't leave you by yourself— I'm too worried about you," she said.

He chuckled. "I'm four-thousand years old, Billie Lurk.  I'm old enough to take care of myself," he said.  Satisfied with the plane of wood, he set it aside with a grunt and moved on to the next one. "I always told my Marked that I didn't have favorites... That was the only lie I ever told."

"I find that hard to believe," Billie said.

"But it _is_ true," he stated. "Though, for most of my tenure, it wasn't a lie."

"Oh?"

"It wasn't a lie until I Marked Daud," he said.

"Daud was your favorite?" Billie almost laughed—and she would have, if he'd not seemed so serious. "After what he wanted to do to you?  How he talked about you, felt towards you?"

"It was no different than the situation between yourself and he, all those years ago in Dunwall.  'It was inevitable.'"

Billie looked down. "So... if I'd died...?"

"Then he would've known what I now do," he said, tone softened.  He tensed, setting down his tools and crossing to another bench, for a hammer.  Billie stood.

"What's wrong?"

"Someone's coming," he scowled. "I... Can sense magic.  Volatile—"

The door kicked open and Billie drew her sword.  She was hit with a stun mine expertly smacked right into the middle of her chest.  Convulsing, Billie hit the floor.  Her... 'friend' set down his hammer and folded his hands behind his back, sighing, annoyed, at the intruder.

"Really," he drawled. "Was that necessary?"

"I can't know if she's still friendly—and she drew on me," the intruder— _Emily Kaldwin_ —replied.  Billie tore the mine off with her right hand and chucked the dead casing at the Empress's head.

"You ass," she rasped, rolling over. "After everything I did for you—"

A gloved hand extended down, nearly into her face.  Billie clasped it and let the Empress haul her upright.

"Sorry," Emily said.

"Ow," Billie replied.  She shot the carpenter a glare. "You didn't recognize her?"

"As I said, whispers," he replied with a shrug. "Expert breaching, by the way.  I'm sure your father would be impressed."

Emily's half-cheerful expression evaporated.  So did his.

"He, um..." Emily looked down. "C-Corvo's why I'm here.  He's... He's dead."

"Emily—" Billie reached for the Empress's shoulder and the woman all but crumbled into her chest.

 

The Royal Protector side of things had been easily fixed, Emily said.  A tall, sturdy blond man in his early thirties had stood out among the candidates and she'd hired him almost on the spot—when she recognized his voice.

"I think you might know him, too," Emily said.

"What's his name?"

"The one he _gave_ me is Jack," Emily said. "His _official_ name is Jack Dodson."

"But his _real_ name?" Billie pressed.

"Thomas."

She looked up at the voice—it was a little deeper than she remembered.  He was a little taller than she remembered, he had a scar above his left eye, now, and one across his cheek—though that one had been a fresh wound the last time she saw him, a wound by her hand.  Billie's mouth went dry.

"I thought you were in Karnaca," she said.

"I was, then I went back to Dunwall.  Got a letter from Dodge asking for help," Thomas said. "He's in the Royal Guard."

"He's _leading_ the Royal Guard," Emily muttered. "Guard Captain Domnhall Darcy."

Billie smiled at that. "Good for Dodge.  He was always a smart kid.  Fast on his feet, too."

"Not always fast enough, apparently," Emily sighed. "Like you, he ran afoul of Delilah... But unlike you, he didn't get a fancy magic eye and arm for his trouble."

"Regrettable," the carpenter said. "I fail to see why you feel the need to escort us _both_ , or why you yourself are present, Your Majesty."

"I need a face to give the people when they ask," Emily said, gesturing at the carpenter. "And someone who isn't entirely opposed to wetwork." She gestured at Billie. "Both of you are very clever and exceptionally skilled in the field of spywork."

 

 

"I'm without my _advantages_ ," the carpenter grunted irritably to no one in particular. "I don't know why she wishes to have me."

"Safest place in the damn world for you to be is penned up behind armed guard," Billie replied. "What would happen if I was away and Overseers stumbled across you unprotected?"

"I imagine they'd arrest and execute me," he replied flatly. "Void knows I've lived long enough, it wouldn't be much of a shame if this ended."

Billie sat up and cuffed him across the ear. "Listen here, you.  I didn't argue with Daud, which we both know is a trial only a miserable few have ever succeeded in, to bring you out here and let you die," she snapped.

"Rulfio works for the crown," he replied, almost a non-sequitur.  She figured it would connect to their argument at some point, so she shut up and lay back down. "He went to Karnaca to investigate the rumors of the Black Magic Brute—"

"Daud."

"Yes," he frowned at the interruption. "He followed the two of you back to the _Dreadful Wale_.  And... while you were off searching for that knife, made contact."

"And?"

"And Daud was lucid and capable enough to make you an audiograph, write you a letter _and_ finish a bottle of whiskey?" he raised an eyebrow.

Billie sat up again. "Wait, are you saying—"

"I'm not _saying_ anything in particular," he said. "Just making point of fact."

"Rulfio—" Billie stood. "He couldn't."

"He was an Overseer before Daud brought him on, he was a paid killer for eight years under Daud, he was a paid killer for ten more until Corvo forcibly hired him six years ago... Rulfio knows death better than most anyone."

The door of the cabin slammed behind Billie, her shout of, "You should've told me sooner!" half-cut off.


	2. Darkest Black

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brace yerselves, if you're emotionally squishy.

Billie hadn't spoken to him in three weeks, nearly.

He deserved it, so he let her be and she...

She'd go to him when she was ready.

Billie sighed, half-furious.  She had been pointing a sword at his face when he'd told her Daud was dead.  And it had likely been painful enough relaying that on its own without throwing in the 'and he was murdered' part.  Though, she suspected, Rulfio's murder had been... more merciful than letting his internal injuries and other unspecified maladies play out.

"Where can I find him?" she asked Dodge— _Captain Darcy—_ one day.  He looked up—it was unnerving, seeing his still so youthful face marred as it was.  He was barely thirty, with a scarred-over eyelid sewn shut over an empty socket.  Thankfully, he'd always preferred his left side, despite being capably ambidextrous.

"Find who?"

"Rulfio," Billie clarified.

Dodge hesitated.  He sighed, "You can find him with Galia, Connor, Cole and Hobson."

"Where at?"

"Cemetery on the north side of town."

Billie blinked. "He's dead?"

"He was in the blast that killed Lord Attano—took him three days to kick off," Dodge said. 

Billie frowned. "Did... Did he talk to you about his trip to Karnaca?"

"Why're you so interested?" Dodge scowled.

"He... Something dawned on me is all..." Billie said. "He... might've murdered Daud."

Dodge raised an eyebrow. "It took you this long to figure it out?"

"Daud was dying anyway..." Billie said, looking down. "Internal injuries, probably lung cancer... If Rulf killed him, it was probably poison and probably a lot less painful than it would've been."

Dodge rubbed his eye with his knuckle and nodded. "Okay..." He stepped back from his desk and went to the book shelf against the wall.  He took a thin, unassuming notebook from behind a few law books and tossed it over. "Rulf's journal.  Told me to give it to you if you ever asked about his trip to Karnaca..."

Billie looked from Dodge to the journal and skipped to the last entry.

_Bill, if you're reading this, I'm probably dead— either you killed me or I fucked up on a job and Dodge just winged this at your head.  
_

_Figured I should level with you about what happened in Karnaca, doubt you would've let me tell you proper._

_I found Daud on your ship,_ The Dreadful Wale, _he was... probably a week or so out from kicking anyway.  We talked, I could hear how much pain he was in.  He told me what he'd sent you after, what he planned to do. Told him what I'd been sent to do and he laughed, saying he'd die on the way.  So, I gave him a dose of something to take on his own time, would've put him right out let him slip away easy and painless—something I'd kept for myself in case I was captured by an enemy of the Crown.  He told me he wouldn't have the balls to do it... So I poured it in his drink.  We talked about you, after that, for half an hour, before he took it.  He was proud of you, Bill.  Right to the end... Only person I've ever heard talk about someone like that is Lord Attano talking about Her Majesty._

_I told Her Majesty I hadn't been able to find him, but I told Lord Attano the truth._

_Proud of you, too (especially if my blood's still cooling on your hands), Bill._

_Farewell and good luck,_

_R_

She lowered the notebook and closed it, eye slipping shut, too.

"Did he?"

Billie shrugged, didn't say another word, and left the office.

 

 

She was due to address her former brothers-at-arms with her new partner—

The door to their bunkroom was closed.  She heard his voice, then a collision of a fist against a jaw.

Billie threw open the door and saw him on his knees on the floor, one arm buckled under him, bracing his fall.

Brendan kicked him, Ardan grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and threw him into a stumbling fall against Petro's chest.  Andrei back-handed slapped him and Ardan punched him again, this time in the gut.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?" Billie shouted.

She flinched when Marco pointed a loaded, cocked pistol at her.

"Stay out of it, traitor," he hissed.

She stepped through the Void and grabbed the pistol from his hand.  He headbutted her, hard, and Aleksander belted her across the back of the head.  Billie saw stars and hit the floor, too.  Someone's boot collided with her ribs.  Billie curled in on herself as more boots collided with her body.

"Not so fucking chatty now, Outsider?" Ardan growled from over by where her partner was slackenly suspended. "Got anything to say, Outsider?  Any wisdom from the Void, you black-eyed fuck?"

"I forgot what blood tasted like," the carpenter rasped. "Thank you for the reminder."

Billie tried to fight up as they beat him, but just enough kicks and punches were thrown her way to make it inordinately difficult to get up.

She heard the door slam open again, and this time, everyone recoiled.

"What the _fuck_ do you _piss-for-brain shitstains_ think you're doing?!"

Dodge had gotten mouthy, and cussy.

"But sir—"

"No fucking 'but sir,'" Dodge roared.  Billie rolled to her feet and saw Thomas and Dodge in the doorway, the Lord Protector looking uncharacteristically menacing behind an even more uncharacteristically menacing younger man.  Despite the mutilated face and missing arm, Dodge looked dangerous. "Sergeant, go get a fucking bucket!  You're cleaning this up on your hands and fucking knees!"

"Not yet, sergeant," Thomas interrupted, voice slick as ice and nine times colder, staying Bertram's boots. "Lord Spymaster, are you alright?"

"I'll live," the slender dark-haired man said.

"Lady Spymaster?"

"Pretty sure I'll live, too," Billie replied.

"Very good," Thomas said. "Now, I'm not sure if it was made clear..." he unfolded his hands from behind his back and gestured at Billie and her partner. "But these two are your superiors.  You work for them— you keep your jobs and your freedom at their say-so.  One word from either of them, and I'll lock you in your new home at Coldridge myself.  You _will_ give them all the respect you gave Lord Attano..." He paused. "Unless, of course, Lord and Lady Spymaster, you'd like to press charges on your assailants.  In which case, their respect becomes irrelevant and Captain Darcy will have them escorted to Coldridge post-haste."

Billie blinked.  She kind of liked angry, empowered Lord Protector Thomas.

"We do not intend to press charges," the quiet boy said. "No true harm was brought on us."

Billie thought about disagreeing, but decided against it.

"Very well," Thomas said. "Miss Montgomery."

"Sir?" Mont, one of the few who hadn't joined in, piped up.

"Accompany these two back to their office and see to their injuries," Thomas instructed.  Mont hopped up and got a kit.  She followed them back to their office— a small, out-of-the-way study.  Billie refused treatment and almost shooed Mont out to tend to her friend herself.

"Outsider's eyes, Ardan got you good," Mont huffed.  Then blushed. "It's, I'm..."

"It's just an expression, I know," he said softly.

"Am I going to have to kill Ardan?" Billie asked after, when Mont had gone.

"Void, no," he said, touching his bruising lip and wincing at the resulting pain. "I suppose it's too late to go back to being a coffin-maker in Karnaca..."

"Kind of," Billie sighed.  She went to go stick Rulfio's journal in a desk drawer and found a bottle of whiskey in it.  She stared at it for a second before pulling it out. "How old are you?"

"Physically?  A little younger than sixteen.  Chronologically?  A bit over four-thousand-fifteen."

Wordlessly, Billie uncapped the bottle of whiskey and held it out.

He blinked and took it.  He nearly gagged and definitively hissed in pain when he sipped it, then set the bottle down on the desk.

"That's awful," he said.

"It's Daud's favorite brand," Billie commented.  The slip of paper that had fallen off it was a note saying it was an office-warming gift from Emily and Thomas.

"I know, but it's still awful," he pulled a face. "You'll drink some, too, yes?"

She smiled and took a swig, then set it back down.  He took another sip and she raised an eyebrow. "I thought it was awful."

"It is, but it still tastes better than how I feel right now," he said. "Which, I suppose, is the purpose for this stuff."

Billie chuckled and sat down on the desk. "So... You should've told me about Rulf sooner."

He took a longer swig of whiskey. "Yes."

"But I'm glad you didn't," she said. "If you had... I would've come here and murdered him for killing Daud... and... I doubt I would've found the journal he left me... and I would've been furious and depressed and... You knew."

"I had an idea," he said, setting the bottle back down. "But I didn't know for sure."

"Did... did you know about the bombing?"

"Not for sure.  If I had... I would've written to Lord Attano, warned him..." he trailed off.  She almost didn't recognize the rattle in his breath as he exhaled hard.  Billie crossed around the desk and folded him into her arms.  His hands clenched in the back of her shirt and he let out a racking sob into her belly.  She carded her hand through his hair and rubbed his shoulder.  She held him and let him cry into her shirt like he had for her those nights when she'd woken and remembered betraying her mentor, blamed herself for his fate, cursed herself that she hadn't been there in his final moments.

**Author's Note:**

> The bit about Rulfi-kins is all made up. He would never.


End file.
